


the fundamental things apply

by Butterfly



Series: Queliot Week 2019 [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Past Quentin Coldwater/Alice Quinn - Freeform, Post Season 4, Queliot Week 2019, Quentin Coldwater Is Alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19261027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly/pseuds/Butterfly
Summary: "Eliot took Quentin by the elbow, smiled his brightest and most fake smile at some cousin or other that Quentin had pointed out a minute ago. No one in the room looked very much like Q, though Eliot could spot a few similar features here and there. His mother's family, he'd said, numerous and loud and, from how Q had said it, too intimidating for Quentin to want to face alone."For the fake/pretend relationship prompt for Queliot Week 2019.





	the fundamental things apply

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "As Time Goes By" sung by Dooley Wilson.

“Don't let them corner you,” Quentin cautioned him.

Eliot took Quentin by the elbow, smiled his brightest and most fake smile at some cousin or other that Quentin had pointed out a minute ago. No one in the room looked very much like Q, though Eliot could spot a few similar features here and there. His mother's family, he'd said, numerous and loud and, from how Q had said it, too intimidating for Quentin to want to face alone.

“And, uh, sorry about the boyfriend thing.” Quentin pressed against him even more closely, so that he could talk quietly enough to escape anyone else's hearing. “I panicked, I guess. No matter how old I get, I always feel like an anxious kid around my mom.”

“I don't mind,” Eliot said, in a gross understatement. When he'd come back to himself, after being trapped in his mind so long, it had been painfully jarring to learn that Alice had been forgiven and was – if not comfortably part of the group – accepted by everyone as Quentin's girlfriend again. Eliot had... he'd made her a promise once, a lifetime ago, never to betray her again. And even if she had betrayed them all, he couldn't quite bring himself to do the same to her. So he'd tucked away his heart, dedicated himself to being Quentin's supportive friend. Even Margo didn't suspect the truth, though that might be more due to her distraction over her own complicated love life.

“Just- I'd already told her I was bringing a plus-one,” Quentin said, over-explaining in that way he had and still sounding miserably embarrassed. “And uh-”

Coming alone would have been another opening for his mother to find fault with him and chip away at his self-esteem. Eliot had already been front row and center for that when – during their introduction – Rayann had managed to say, with obvious amazement, what a _shock_ it was to see Quentin wearing formalwear that actually fit him _properly_ and she'd wanted to tell Eliot all about the 'sad, baggy suit' that Quentin had worn to his high-school events. Eliot had fended her off with icy politeness, and had been acutely, agonizingly aware of how upset Quentin had been the whole time.

“I don't mind,” Eliot said again, patiently. “How long do you want us to stay before we bail?”

“Um, I don't- until the speeches are over, I guess. Or we could- uh,” It had been a while since Eliot had heard Quentin trip over his words as much as he was doing tonight. He stroked Quentin's arm, trying to be soothing. “I mean, I'm trying- I don't want- I want to be able to talk to my mom, you know? Even if it's not often. So I don't want to- to completely alienate her. And that means at least showing up at things like this.”

Now that his father was gone. And there was a deep aching regret at that thought, the idea Quentin had been forced to deal with that grief without Eliot there to help or at least listen.

“We can stay as long as you want,” Eliot said.

They listened to the speeches from the best man and the maid of honor, and Quentin introduced him to many people who Quentin obviously didn't remember, and a couple of people he actually did. There was cake and a very forgettable meal that Eliot hoped they hadn't spent too much money having catered. Then there was the dancing and-

If Alice were here instead of him – if Alice and Quentin hadn't had that strangely civil argument a week back that had ended in an equally polite, if chilly, break-up – Eliot's not sure if she and Quentin would have wanted to dance. He'd never really pegged either of them as the type. Eliot, though, gazed at the couples filling up the dance floor and felt such a great and hopeless sense of longing and then-

“You can lead, right?” Quentin was holding out his hand and the look on his face reminded Eliot of something, but he wasn't sure what.

Eliot could, most certainly, lead in a dance. So he took Quentin's hand, let Q show him to the dance floor. Corrected Q's hands, brought him in closer. “I find it difficult to believe your mother expected you to dance tonight. Given that I assume she's met you at some point in the past.”

“I uh- yeah,” Quentin looked away from Eliot, off to the side. “El, we- can I ask you a-”

“Of course,” Eliot said.

“I haven't even asked you yet.”

“You can ask me anything,” Eliot clarified. He'd never danced with Q, not like this except – in another life, barely remembered as anything more than a dream. “Whatever you need.”

Quentin didn't say anything else right away, just followed Eliot's lead. It was a wonderful kind of torture that Q had decided to inflict on him, being able to hold him like this, twirl him and spin him until he smiled – closed-mouth but happier than he'd been most of the night. When the dance was coming to an end, Quentin glanced around, then tugged at Eliot's hand, leading him off the dance floor and into the hallway.

He didn't seem ready to head home, instead going deeper inside the reception hall until he found them an empty little nook. Then he took a deep breath, looked at Eliot and said, “Thanks for helping me out tonight. I was kind of dreading it, but you- um. Everything's better when you're around.” He hesitated and Eliot was sure, for a moment, that he was about to say something else, but then he nodded, rocked back on his heels, finished.

“That's all you wanted to say?” Eliot asked, somewhat bewildered. “Not sure why that needed so much privacy.”

“El, I-” Quentin paused again and- this time, oh, this time, he recognized the look on Q's face. From a lifetime ago, another celebration but just the two of them, sitting on the mosaic, and Quentin working up his courage.

Oh.

Eliot was an _idiot_.

He reached out and cupped Quentin's face and, fuck, yes, the relief that flickered over his expression. The way his entire body softened and angled towards Eliot.

This hadn't been about Quentin's mother at all. This had been an _excuse_.

Eliot slid his hand down, gripped the back of Quentin's neck in a way that- that Quentin recognized, because he was already tilting his face up to make kissing him easier. Eliot leaned down, kissed Quentin, and they weren't drunk or trapped together or anything else either of them could use to try to explain it away as meaningless later. This wouldn't just be an interlude. It would be a beginning.

So Eliot pressed his tongue into Quentin's mouth and focused all his attention on making it a _good_ beginning.

 


End file.
